A Bad Idea
by Ryuusquall
Summary: Its just plain unlucky for both the criminals and Alex Rider when they decide, of all the houses to burgle in England, to break into Alex’s. While he’s in… Or is it more then just plain old bad luck?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: hhmmm, lets see the checklist: **

**Human? Yup!**

**English? Check!**

**Male? Darn...**

**Nope. Turns out I dont own the Alex Rider books...  
**

Daniel Stanley and Mike Fletcher weren't stupid men. They knew it was a bad idea to try and pick pocket an Olympic sprinter, steal meat from a rabid dog or nick a police car.

But what they didn't know was that it was also a very, very bad idea to try and break into Alex Rider's house. Especially when he was in.

But how where they to know? They where just low level crooks, even if they had committed a lot of nasty crimes in the past and happened to think very highly of themselves.

They had had the presence of mind to watch the house for a couple of days before attempting to ransack the place. The only one they had ever seen go in or out of the house was a young, red haired women. Hardly a challenge if she returned while they where still there.

They hadn't, how ever, been watching when a black car with tinted windows had pulled up late the night before. They hadn't seen the red haired lady rush over to it to meet a blond haired boy as he finally returned from his latest mission. Even if they had, would it have changed anything? Perhaps. If they had known that there would be someone home when they finally broke in, they might have walked away and waited to the next day. On the other hand, it was just one, tired looking 15 year-old, what threat could he have possible been to them?

**Urgh...so short...**

**The next one will be longer, I promise!**

**I'm not entirely sure how violent this may get...theres going to be a bit of fighting, but who knows how far that might go?...**

**Depending on if this gets much interest and if my brain can stay focused enough, I do have a couple of ideas for this.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Fanfiction. Fan-fiction. That indicates a fan wrote this, doesn't it? If I was really the author and wrote fan fiction of my own story, that would seem really really big headed. Of cause not owning the Alex Rider books wouldn't stop me from being big headed. I would just be big headed about something else. But I'm not. I hope… Now can anyone tell me where my point here disappeared to? I seem to have lost it…**

They made their move at eleven o'clock in the morning; about ten minutes after the red haired lady had left. They didn't know where she was going, didn't care as long as she was out of the house.

There was a door round the back of the house made almost entirely out of glass. It led out to a small, messy garden in which the thieves where currently standing. Daniel lifted out the chisel from their kit-bag and leant against the door frame. They knew exactly what to do to break the lock on this type of door. It was harder then they had expected due to a double locking system that this make didn't usually have, but there was a weak point that the manufacturers hadn't noticed. The thieves had however, and after a couple of minutes they where in.

The first thing that Mike managed to do when he entered was knock over a glass lampshade. It shattered on contact with the laminated floor and Daniel swore at him. Out of the two, Daniel was the boss. This was because he was stronger, faster, cleverer and crueler then Mike. And he wasn't a heroin addict either. The same could not be said for Mike.

If you had known Mike before he became addicted to drugs, as well as after you wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. This was because he had always been a bit weird. And drugs had made him a just that bit weirder. Mike took a delight in vandalizing other people's property. If he couldn't live in a nice house with nice things, neither could his victims. He was less violent then Daniel though, who loved to cause pain. It wasn't that Mike had a conscience, or disliked to see others in pain, but because he was a coward, paranoid that someone he hurt sometime would came back and get him.

Daniel wasn't his own boss though. But at least he was out of the two of them, meaning he could get away with whacking the other criminal hard round his head with the palm of his hand. "What the hell did you do that for?" Mike yelped. "Someone might have heard you, you bastard!" Daniel hissed venomously.

Mike muttered something about 'sorry', 'accident' and 'no one here'; But Daniel wasn't paying him any attention. The plan was to simply ransack the place as quickly and as efficiently as they could, in, say ten minutes. (6.45 was their record, but that house had been much smaller then this one and had contained very little worth stealing.) As soon as they could they would scarper with their kit bags bulging with stolen goods, just as they had done many times before.

Daniel started by going over to a cupboard and wrenching it open to look for valuables.

Not wanting to stay in range of Daniels fists, Mike went off to explore upstairs. Upstairs was mostly unknown territory as they hadn't been able to see much of it from where they had been spying on the house for the last few days.

If they had been able to see that the house contained, not one obviously personalized and lived in bedroom, but two, what would they have made of it? That the red haired lady had a friend, husband, son or boyfriend that sometimes stayed in the blue painted room with football posters stuck haphazardly to the walls? What would they have cared? As long as he wasn't in at the time it didn't matter. He was in though. They just didn't know it quite yet.

Mike climbed the stars swiftly and looked round briefly before choosing his first target. He went to the door straight in front of him and opened it. A bathroom. He strode in and glanced round. There often wasn't much at all of value in a bathroom, and after swinging open the doors to the cupboard under the sink and seeing only make-up, he concluded that this was one such case.

He straightened up and started to turn round. Then did a double take. He had just spotted movement in the mirror…he was sure he had…

He glanced back round at it and saw a figure standing, framed in the doorway behind him.

"Now what's a guy like you doing in here trying to steal make-up for?" A youthful male voice asked him calmly. He spun round, away from the mirror to face the boy, his fists raised and an ugly look on his face.

---------Alex---------

Sometimes Alex just couldn't believe his luck. It had been said he had the luck of the Devil. Well Saturn was probably having fun laughing at him right now. Just a few hours after arriving back from his last mission in the middle of the night, shattered, jet-lagged, battered and feeling decidedly under the weather, he woke to the crash of glass braking and raised male voices.

It took just a few seconds for his sleep fuddled brain to snap into gear. What was going on here? It wasn't Jack down there, that much was obvious by the male voice he just heard. And it wasn't the TV. Televisions didn't often stamp noisily round the house.

He slipped out of bed and crept towards the door. Ears straining for every sound he managed to work out that there must be two people in the house. One downstairs, in the dinning room, opening the cupboards and searching through them. He could hear the sounds of things falling to the floor and more glass shattering as Daniel roughly shoved anything he didn't want out of his way.

And the other man…approaching footsteps and the heavy tread of booted feet on the stairs warned him of the fast approach of danger.

Every inch of his being on red alert, sleep completely forgotten as he listened to their movement while trying to formulate a decent plan. He glanced round for a weapon, though he was already pretty sure there was nothing in his room that could help him, and as he did so he glimpsed a bright pink post-it note on the bed-side cabinet. That hadn't been there when he had fallen asleep…

Without a sound he crept back over and picked it up. It was a note from Jack. Alex allowed himself a quite sigh of relief. The note, written in Jacks familiar untidy scrawl told him that she had gone out shopping and that she would be back soon. So at least that was one less thing to worry about. Jack wasn't in any immediate danger. But by the sound of those footsteps, he was.

Time to act. He could hear one of them enter the bathroom next to his bedroom and decided to try and deal with him first. Where as any other person his age would have probably hid in their room and used their mobile to call the police, Alex left his mobile where it was and slowly eased open his bedroom door. They might hear him if he tried calling the police, and chances were, since the room he was in was right next to the one the criminal currently occupied, he would be disturbed by the stranger before he even managed to explain what was happening to the police.

He needed the element of surprise. He couldn't risk loosing that. So instead of taking the safe way out, he decided to do what he did best and throw himself straight in front of trouble. Or at least, sneak up behind it.

Silently thanking which ever gods had chosen to keep the door well oiled enough not to creak (so probably Jack), he made his way silently out of his room. He glanced briefly down the stairs but could see no sign of the other man. Good. It would be a lot harder to try and deal with both of them at once.

He stood outside the bathroom for a few seconds, composing his face into and expressionless mask and preparing his body for the pain of a fight.

Then with a deep steadying breath, he stepped into the doorway the thief had just entered a few seconds previously. Almost immediately the man noticed him. If the situation hadn't been so series, Alex would have laughed at the shocked look on the criminals face as he spotted someone other then himself reflected in the mirror. But this was no laughing matter. He had hoped to sneak up behind the man and knock him out, or in some other way eliminate him as a threat. It was just more bad luck that the stranger had happened to glance up at him before he made his move.

Alex didn't let it faze him though. Or at least, he didn't let it show on his face that he was swearing rapidly to himself in his head. Instead he just came out with a typical flippant remark.

The thief swung round to face him, his fists raised and an angry glint in his eyes. Alex immediately got into a fighting stance himself, and one that was much better then the other mans. It was clear that he had had no sort of martial arts training, where as Alex was an expert.

The other man didn't even have the advantage over him of height as Alex had expected. He was just a tiny bit taller then Alex himself and didn't look very strong. His face was pale and pinched looking, his hair cut short, badly and a couple of day's stubble clear on his weak chin.

He pulled his colourless lips back in a snarl and spat, "Who the hell are you?"

His face still emotionless, Alex replied, "Someone who has a right to be here. Do you?"

His only reply was an animal growl and a sudden aggressive lunge towards him.

**I said it would be longer then the last one ^^. Sure it's no 100 page story, but at the same time it's not bad considering that I only posted the prologue up yesterday.**

**I hoped you enjoyed reading it enough to give it a review…and didn't hate it enough to review it instead…There's a difference. One would make me happy and you would get virtual cookies. The other would make me cry… and sneak up on you in the night to dig your heart out with a spoon…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Just a couple of things I need to clear up before the start of this next chapter…**

**The first is that it's a mass conspiracy; 'Saturn' and 'Satan' are now the same thing. Everyone in the world knows that apart from the people who pointed out that I had accidentally written 'Saturn' instead of 'Satan', except, it wasn't actually a mistake of course because they really mean the same thing. You just didn't know that…**

**(Damn you mild dyslexia!)**

**The other is, no, I did not use the same spoon to make the cookies for cutting peoples hearts out. In fact, I was lazy and didn't bother making the cookies myself. They where shop bought. I realize now that buying virtual cookies from a virtual shop is lazy, and so everyone who comments nicely on this next chapter can have a home made virtual chocolate brownie (they are really good!).**

**And what of people who are allergic to that sort of thing?... well…death by brownie is probably less painful then death by spoon…so eat up!**

**Now I've got that bit sorted out, here is the disclaimer:**

**When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. When life doesn't give you the Alex Rider books, you write fan-fiction. Sorted :D**

The other man seemed to have been aiming for his face. Well, actually, it had been hard to tell. Where ever he had actually been aiming for, he missed as Alex swung round to the right. Using his momentum he punched the dangerously over balanced man in the chest with his left fist, meaning that instead of falling flat on his face from over stretching in his missed attack, the thief collapsed backwards with a yell. As he did so his head came into contact with the sink behind him. There was a sickening crack and his yell cut off abruptly. Alex watched in surprise as the stranger slumped lifelessly to the floor.

Was he dead or just unconscious?

Before Alex could check, he heard laud footsteps thundering along the hallway. Quickly he slipped behind the bathroom door as feet pounded heavily up the stairs. It wasn't something he had thought of, a flare of instinctive fear had simply ordered him to get out of sight. And instincts where often the only thing you could rely on in situations like this.

Out of sight of the second man, Alex swung the arm he had used to punch the first criminal. Despite the adrenalin he could feel the slight discomfort of pain in his fist. Hardly counted as pain though, not after all he had been through. And for some reason that tiny beat of pain in his knuckles made him feel powerful, aggressive, alive.

With just his wits and muscles (and sometimes the odd useful gadget), he could survive what ever was thrown at him. A couple of petty thieves weren't going to change that.

He wanted to smile evilly to himself, wanted to jump out and punch the other man square in the face. Wanted to hurt him. Wanted to make him feel pain for all the times others had hurt Alex.

As the stranger crashed into the room, cursing and yelling at the other man, asking what the hell he was up to, Alex felt a thrill of fear brush its feathery tendrils up his back. Mentally he grabbed hold of them and let fear stab a hole in the odd reckless aggressiveness that had been boiling up inside him.

He needed to calm down, get back into the zone. He couldn't let cockiness and savagery fight for him. That wasn't the way to do it. Wasn't his way. It could only lead to bad things. Like pain and defeat.

Behind the door, despite every muscle in his body screaming for fight or flight, he made himself close his eyes and take several long and calming breaths, being careful to do so quietly. He didn't want the thief to hear him. He wanted to be the first one to make a move.

Snapping his dark brown eyes open, he leant to his right just a fraction. It was enough to show him the back of Daniel Stanley as he leant down to see what the hell his colleague was playing at.

Carefully watching for any signs the man was about to straighten up (meaning that he would be able to see Alex in the mirror), he tried to do a quick summery of his new enemy.

The man was wearing a pair off faded jeans and a dark green t-shirt. Great, because his fashion sense was really going to help Alex defeat him…

What was also obvious though, despite the fact that Alex didn't have a very good view of him, was that he was going to be a much more dangerous opponent then the last man. Where as he had been small and pinched looking, this guy was definitely over 6 foot tall, and probably much more then that. He was large in a hulking, muscular way. Alex had no doubt that he was going to be a lot harder to beat then the last guy. He looked as though a head long collision with a bus wouldn't knock him out, let alone an accidental knock on the head from the rim of a sink.

Another thing Alex soon learnt about him was that he hated the sight of blood. As he roughly shook his partners shoulder, (making the other man groan slightly, proving that Alex had only accidentally knocked him out, not killed him), he slumped forwards, showing that he had cracked his head open on the corner of the basin. The back of his head was bleeding quite badly and at the sight of it, the larger man had jumped back in disgust, letting out a cry of revulsion. As he did so, his elbow came into contact with the door Alex was hiding behind, pushing it backwards sharply. The door smashed into Alex's face, causing him to let out a cry of pain and clutch at his nose, which felt as though it must be broken.

He heard, rather then saw, the door being pulled away from him and a second later, large hands gripped him roughly by the shoulders and dragged him away from the wall.

Opening eyes that where near to watering from pain, he glimpsed a tanned face with grey eyes and sandy coloured hair glaring down at him before he was picked up by the shoulders of hit T-shirt and thrown roughly sideways.

Alex let out a yell as the back of his legs came into contact with the side of the bath, coursing him to fall backwards into it. As he fell his head met one of the taps in a glancing blow that left him temporarily stunned.

As he tried to wake his mind up from the haze of pain his nose and the back of his head were in, more pain was sent jarring up his leg as his enemy stood and then kneeled on him. It didn't break any bones but still hurt like hell.

After a few seconds his world of pain spun sickeningly as he was dragged forward, once again by his T-shirt. The thief couldn't lift the bottom half of his body, owing to the fact he was now kneeling on it, but he could pull him up enough for them to almost be at eye level.

"Who the hell are you?" The man hissed in Alex's face. Some far off corner of his brain said to tell the man that was exactly what his colleague had asked, or else give him the exact same answer he had given the other thief.

But that part of his brain wasn't thinking properly, and neither was the rest of it to tell the truth. He was finding it hard to order his thoughts through the pain.

The man shook him and Alex's eyes refocused on him slightly. "Alex…" He muttered in hardly audible tones.

"What you do'in here, Alice?" The stranger hissed, shaking Alex by his clothes some more. "Its Alex… and I live here." He answered quietly.

"To hell you do Alice, we've been watchin this place for days, we woulda seen you if you lived here!" As he spoke, he abruptly let go of Alex, letting him drop back down to the bottom of the bath, hitting his already sore head on the hard plastic.

As Alex groaned in pain, the thief suddenly came to a conclusion that made sense to him. "You thought yeh could rob this place, didn't you?" A fist hit Alex in the side of the head. Pain and indignation flared up. "I live here, you bastard!" Alex spat back, earning him a whack across his right cheek.

Face stinging, Alex looked around desperately for evidence to back up his claim. There where no photos in the bathroom so he couldn't point himself out in one of those. Finally his eyes fell on an almost full bottle of Lynx shampoo. He tried to lift one hand up to point towards it, for some reason thinking vaguely that it was proof enough to get the criminal to believe him. The other man however, thought that Alex was about to try and punch him.

He grabbed Alex's arm and twisted it back violently, grinning when the boy let out an animal yawl of pain. Being punched hard under the chin quickly got rid of the smile though, changing it into a twisted snarl of rage. "Why you little…" Not only was this kid trying to rob the house they had spent all these days watching, he had also somehow managed to knock his partner, Mike out, and punched him much harder then a boy of his age (what ever it was), should be able to.

Daniel saw red at the attack and clamped his strong arms around the boy's neck. He shook him violently by his throat, making his head crash back onto the plastic bottom of the bath again and again.

As he did so he felt blows strike his side, and then his head as the boy struggled to get free, using his fists to punch, the flat of his hands for madly aimed karate chops and even resorting to scrabbling savagely at his attackers skin with his nails..

Daniel changed his grip slightly, and ignoring the counter attacks as best he could, he started to put pressure on the boy's neck, pressing his thumbs into the boy's soft throat.

Alex was doing everything he could to escape, still not able to accept how badly things had gone. But he was loosing this battle. The pressure on his neck was terrible, no matter how hard he hit the larger man, it seemed to just make him grip tighter, not less. And it wasn't like he could us his legs. He could barely even feel them under the great weight pinning them down.

But Alex didn't give up, he kept struggling even as he felt his attacks get weaker and weaker. He couldn't breath. The world was spinning round him. There was pain everywhere, throbbing white hot through him.

This wasn't the first time he had found himself been strangled to death and he decided in that moment that he really didn't like being throttled. It really wasn't his idea of fun.

He was dying though and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

**This one was longer then the last! True, it's only longer by about 50 words, but that's still longer, right? And no one said how much longer they wanted it to be then the last, only that it should be longer. **

***Picks up small metal spoon and glares round, waiting for anyone to say by how much they thought the next should be longer then this one***

**On a different note, I'm always careful to re-read what ever I write several times, but as some people have already pointed out, that doesn't stop me accidentally leaving in mistakes.**

**I've changed 'spoon' to 'spun', 'ram' to 'arm' and 'ay' to 'any', but I might have missed some other ones.**

**If so, I apologies. (Just incase your wondering, I purposefully wrote what Daniel was saying phonetically, rather then the correct spelling)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry it's taken so long to do this chapter, but it is longer then the other two!**

**So longer time equals more words ^^**

**But be warned that this chapter contains violence and swearing.**

**Disclaimer: When I rule the world. Yes, that's a when; I will own the Alex Rider books as well as everything else in the known galaxy. Sadly that day has not yet come…**

By now Alex was weakly scrabbling at the mans thick arms, trying to pry them away from his throat but having very little success.  
He just wanted the pain to go away. Just wanted to breathe. Funny how you only truly appreciate things when they're gone. Now that he could no longer draw oxygen into his starved lungs, he was really missing it.  
He couldn't swallow, but there was an odd taste in his mouth, metallic and revolting. Was this part of being strangled to death? He hadn't noticed it last time. Then again, he had had other things to worry about then, as he did now.  
Something else he did vaguely notice though was that the man was wearing thin  
plastic gloves, the type that are see-through and disposable. He had obviously worn them so that he wouldn't leave finger prints all over the place. That wouldn't help him now though. Alex's nails had pretty much shredded them.  
It was only a small victory though from where Alex was standing, just in front of hells gates. He would much rather he lived and the thief got away then for him to get killed and the murderer brought to justice because he left finger prints around the house.

Hands pushing, scratching, pulling, trying to escape, Alex accidentally caught his own face with one of his thumb nails (which just happened to have a bit of plastic caught in it.) He hardly noticed the pain of sharp nail on the soft skin, just above his lip, but he did notice through the miasma of pain, the odd red streak the same thumb then left on his attackers arm.  
Blood. As starved of air as his brain was, it could still register that. So that must be the odd taste in his mouth. And of course, that door had hit him square in the face. It must have given him a nose bleed.  
Without stopping to think beyond that, he ran his hand weakly across the bottom half of his face, covering it in dull red blood and then reaching roughly up, smeared it across the strangers face.  
This did what all the punches and scratches had not, and with a cry of disgust, his attacker instinctively let go of Alex to try and wipe the blood off his face.

That little bastard! Swearing and shuddering in disgust, Daniel turned away from Alex and used his sleeve to try and get off as much of the repulsive stuff as he could. What a disgusting tactic, wiping blood from a nose bleed all over his face! Not that it had done anything to help the little brat; he was just going to enjoy crushing the life out of him even more.  
He turned his face back round to glare down at the kid, just in time to feel something else hit him in the face, leaving his eyes burning.

While the thief had been distracted, Alex had taken full advantage of the situation. Drawing in ragged gasps of breath that burnt his throat and soothed his lungs, he had reached up for his earlier target. The almost full bottle of Lynx Shampoo. The lid was already off, despite the fact that Alex hadn't been home to use it for a at least a month.  
As Daniel swung his head back round, quite a lot of the blood still smeared across his face, Alex squirted him right in the eyes with the shampoo.  
A fist shot out and slammed him in the chest before the thief temporarily abandoned his attack again to madly scrabble to get the clear, burning gunk out of his eyes.  
Alex groaned in pain as his attackers movements caused the weight on his legs to shift repeatedly.

He tried desperately to wriggle his legs out from under the other mans knees, but the weight was just too much for him to get himself free. Grabbing the corners of the bath, he tried his hardest to escape, knowing that he had just seconds before this brief respite was over.  
And he was right. Once again Daniel turned his head round to face Alex. His face was still covered in blood, shampoo streaked down his cheeks like tears and his eyes were blood shot. He also had a look on his face that could only be summed up as  
pure bloody murderous.

"You little shit…" The words where hissed and distorted, his anger at such a volcanic level that he could barely form the words for the choking rage.  
He grabbed Alex's T-shirt and yanked him forward. As he did so, Alex shot a fist forwards and punched him straight in the nose. If he had been able to he would have hit him in a way that would have hopefully sent shards of bone from his nose into his brain, killing him almost instantly. As it was, he just managed a full-on blow. Not that that was anything to scoff at, as when Alex hit him, he could feel bone and cartilage crunch beneath his fist.  
Daniel let out a strangled scream and let go of Alex's top. Alex couldn't stop his head from slamming down against the bottom of the bath once again.  
A fist came his way, aiming straight for his face but Alex had been expecting it, and at the last minute he managed to twist his head away. Daniel let out another cry of pain as his fist slammed into toughened plastic.

Now they were almost even, injury wise, but Alex couldn't see any way out of his hopeless situation. He was pinned down heavily by his legs and so couldn't even move to get away from an opponent who had been prepared to kill Alex before he even got hurt. And now that he was in pain he would be even more violent then before.  
Alex had his arms raised above his head to try and protect himself, but it did little to help.  
The pain-crazed robber simply grabbed Alex's right arm, an arm that was about half the width of his own, and wrenched it backwards.  
He let out a gasp of pain and in moments, his other arm suffered the same fate.

Daniel was now glaring down at him, Alex's legs pinned beneath his knees and his arms trapped above his head at a painful angle.  
The criminal leered at him, a dangerous smile curling his bloody lips. "Who the hell do you think you are, you little brat?"  
"Alex Rider" Came the whispered reply. Alex's throat burned horribly and that was the best he could manage. Then with a hint of his usual cheek in his quite voice, he continued, "I live here, remember?"  
"I don't fucking care if you live here. I just know you'll die here!" Daniel seemed pleased with this clever little answer, and his malicious grin grew wider, revealing badly looked after teeth. Alex was just glad that the man wasn't any closer to him, someone with teeth that bad couldn't have very nice breath. Thank goodness for small mercy's and all that.

The two bruised and bloodied males glared at each other, at a bit of a stalemate. If Daniel let go of one of Alex's arms, he would be able to punch him but Alex would also be able to punch him back.  
The obvious solution was to put on one or both of Alex's arms out of action.

Breaking them would definitely do that.  
Just as this idea occurred to Daniel, there was a noise from downstairs as a key scrabbled in a lock and the front door swung open. Then came the rustling of shopping bags.  
"Jack!" Alex yelled. Or at least he tried to, the name came out as barely more then a whisper. "Jack!" He called again, this time a little louder.  
To his surprise, the criminal suddenly let go of his arms, and before Alex had time to make use of this advantage, a fist smashed into the side of his head, leaving him temporarily stunned.  
He barely noticed as the great weight on his legs finally eased off as the thief slipped quietly out of the bath and stepped towards the open door. Who ever it was down there that the boy was calling to might not have heard him, but Daniel had clearly heard 'Jack.' So it sounded as though he had another opponent waiting down there, perhaps this Jack guy was the boy's backup or something. (Daniel still didn't believe that Alex really lived  
there.)  
Who ever it was, he reckoned he better get rid of him first before dealing with the boy.

He might not have quite finished the job yet, but the little bastard was as good as dead now anyway. It was whoever it was coming through the door that he reckoned would be the most trouble.  
And after he dealt with the guy downstairs and got rid of the brat he would have to try and wake Mike up. No good leaving him here, he could pretty much be relied on to grass on him to the filth if he got caught here. He would probably give up Daniel's name for a cigarette knowing him. Mike was a greedy coward; he would probably hand over his own mother to the police if they looked at him sideways or offered him a fiver.

It wasn't worth it staying any longer then he had to to try and steal some more valuables. That bloody kid, he had messed up all their plans! They had been told this was a simple job, just a few days of surveillance and then a quick breaking and entering to grab some goods.  
But then the damn kid turned up. Now Mike was unconscious and he was going to have to kill the teenage brat and whoever was downstairs. And then scarper with hardly anything of worth to show for his efforts. The bosses where not going to be happy.  
No, first he would have to torch the place, his finger prints where all over now, and they would soon be on not one, but two corpses.  
But first things first…

Jack knew something was wrong pretty much straight away. Because it was so obvious.  
When you return home and spot a large black shoulder bag laying at the bottom of the stairs, one that contained several of your possessions from around the house, you know some things going on.  
She held her breath in shock as her heart started to beat fast. Slowly Jack placed the shopping bags in her hands down on the floor, hating the rustling they made as she did.  
Jack then crept forward, glancing up the stairs in front of her she could see the bathroom door open. That meant nothing to her though, she couldn't remember if she had left it opened or closed.  
Peering round into the sitting room told her lots though. Her laptop was no longer on the desk in the corner (but she had already known that since she had glimpsed it in the black bag) and several other items where either missing, out of place or laying broken on the floor.  
Oh. My. God! Jack thought to herself, adrenaline and fear causing through her. They had been robbed! No, wait, if they had been robbed then the bag would be gone. They were being robbed!

What about Alex! Where was Alex? She had left him asleep in his room, what had happened to him?  
In that second her fear for herself was replaced with fear for him. This couldn't just be a normal robbery, could it? Out of all the houses in the world, it was the one Alex had just returned to which was being robbed. That couldn't be a coincidence. And what if this wasn't even a real robbery?  
For all Jack knew it could be another assassination attempt and the whole burglary thing could just be a front.  
What if she was too late?  
Jack froze again, listening as hard as she could for any noise. The bathroom door creaked, making Jack feel as though she was about to have a heart attack.  
There was someone up there!

Part of her just wanted to run away screaming as fast and as loudly as she could. The other, more prominent part would never let her. Jack had never been able to stop MI6 using Alex; they had sent him off on those sick missions despite all her pleading, begging and threats. Never before had she been able to do anything to protect her poor, abused charge. But she wouldn't let him down this time. This time she could act, so she would.  
She might not be some sort of super spy but thanks to Ian she knew how to protect herself.  
Jack also knew that those who carry knives are much more likely to get stabbed themselves then those who left them well alone.  
But there was no way she was going to go up there unarmed.

Jack crept through to the kitchen, which was in a much worse state then the sitting room and silently slipped open the cutlery draw. The spoons, knives and forks rattled slightly as the draw moved and Jack froze like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a lorry.  
There was no responding noise from upstairs so she reached into the draw and carefully drew out a knife. It wasn't the largest knife in the draw, that would have been too big and unwieldy. It wasn't the smallest either, that would have just been one of their blunt table knifes. Instead she chose the one somewhere between the two. It was relatively small but sharp. Instead of feeling more secure holding it, she felt like a fool. Who knew what she was about to face? Who ever it was could have a gun or a machete for all she  
knew!  
And she was going after him/her/it with a knife she used to chop up vegetables…  
Oh well, Jack's father had always said she had a terrible sense of self preservation …

**Notice any really spelling or grammar stupid mistakes? Don't blame me! Blame my wonderful proof reader, With The What Now!**

**(Please note that this is even more likely to lead to a spoon in the heart then saying anything nasty about me!)**

**You have been warned! But please comment anyway ^^**

***starts sharpening spoon menacingly***


	5. Chapter 5

**Note for this chapter that it tells roughly the same time period from each characters point of view, one after the other. **

**This was the hardest chapter to write so far, I just couldn't get it to work and I'm still not all that happy with it…**

**Disclaimer: I own this disclaimer. Yup, it's true! A disclaimer saying someone actually owns something for once! Sadly that something is not the Alex Rider books…damn.**

After listening for a couple of minutes for movement downstairs, Daniel tiptoed across the landing, or at least he tried to. He might be used to making speedy getaways and beating people up, but he wasn't exactly what you would call light footed.

Cursing silently as the bathroom door creaked slightly behind him, he glanced around to make sure the boy wasn't following him. But all he could see from where he was, was a still uselessly unconscious Mike slumped in front of the sink. He listened for a second. Neither Mike nor the brat made a sound, but he could hear movement from downstairs. Daniel muttered angrily to himself under his breath. He had left the kitbag in plain view of anyone entering the front door. He hadn't planned to; he had just dumped it there as he rushed off to see what was happening to Mike.  
This 'Jack' person had evidently seen it. But why had he gone off snooping round the rest of the house? Daniel just figured that he must have been looking for the Alex kid.

He slowly did his best to creep down the stairs, wanting to take the latecomer by surprise. True he would have had to be thick to not notice that something odd was going on here, but Daniel wanted to get him out of the way as smoothly and quickly and quietly as possible. And that would be much easier if his victim never even saw him coming.

The first step went fine, as he carefully eased his weight onto it with barely a sound only the quiet swish of the hem of his baggy jeans making a noise as they brushed against the carpet The second stair, however, creaked as he shifted his right foot onto it.

Once again a foul string of swearwords bubbled up behind Daniels lips.

This whole thing was just going crap, and it was really, really annoying him now.

With just a quiet hiss of anger, he continued to slide quietly down the stairs, stopping briefly after every step to listen out for more sounds, either from the brat or Mike upstairs stirring, or the guy downstairs moving about. Eight stairs down he suddenly thought he could hear a faint voice talking downstairs. All he could hear was the slightest of mumbles. He couldn't tell if it was more then one person or where exactly it was coming from, but he was pretty sure it must be that Jack person talking, as he had seen no one else enter the house. Perhaps he was on the phone to some friend or other, telling them what was going on or asking for backup.

What ever he was up to down there, Daniel now had a voice to guide him towards where ever Jack was…

Jack stood in the middle of the kitchen, clutching a knife in indecision. She had just heard a creaking noise from upstairs again. This time it was the second stair down; that stair had always creaked loudly.

There's always one, isn't there? Either one floor board that groans when you put your weight on it or one door that squeaks when you opened it. And that stair, second from the top was their _one_.

_It could be Alex_, one part of Jacks brain told her. _It could also be an insane axe wielding_ _maniac_, another part replied.

She wanted to shout Alex's name, wanted to check if he was okay. But her throat seemed to have swollen up; she could barely breathe, let alone shout. She was just too scared. And anyway, if there _was_ an insane axe wielding maniac in the house, shouting was probably not the best thing to do.

But what was? She had to save Alex. _If he's still alive_, that pessimistic little part of her mind nagged.

Backing away from the door that led to the stairs, (even though she couldn't remember making the actual decision to start walking backwards), she spotted the house phone.

It was old, battered and not quite as pale cream as it used to be, meaning that the thieves hadn't bothered trying to steal it.

'The Police!', the citizen in her cried. Yes, that was the right thing to do. Jack picked up the phone, still clutching the vegetable knife in her other hand.

Incase of emergencies, just dial 911. That was what her parents and society had drilled into her as a child. And this was definitely an emergency, so that's what she would do. Except, this was England, so she had to ring 999 instead.

Beep, beep, beep.

999

Ring, ring, ring.

"_Hello, this is emergency services, which service do you require?"_

"The police!" Jack hissed into the phone. The stupid noise that the buttons made as she pressed them (which she hadn't ever really paid much attention to before) had been agonizingly loud to her so she wasn't about to start shouting down the line.

"_Hello, you are through to the police, how can we help you?" _Another female voice asked moments later.

"I think there's someone in my house! I've just got home and everything's out of place and there's a bag half full of things! And, and I'm not the only one here, I mean, I'm not the only one who lives here. But I think someone else is in the house because their bag's still here. If they weren't here, the bag wouldn't be either! And I just heard a noise from upstairs, I swear I did!" Jack's whisper got more and more panicked as she went on. She could tell she was babbling but couldn't be anything to stop the hysteria rising up in her voice. Jack was just so scared, for herself and much, much more so for Alex.

"_Shhh, shhh, calm down. Everything's going to be alright." _The voice replied soothingly.

"_So you've returned home to find what looks like a burglary in progress?"_

"Yes!"

"_And you're not the only one living in the house?"_

"No! Alex is here as well. He was asleep when I left. I think…I think who ever it is whose broken in is up their with him! I heard the stairs creak! Oh God, I'm so worried."

"_Right, we will be sending a police car round as soon as possible."_

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm so worried. He might be dead already…" She was so relieved to know that the police were on their way, but still so, so worried for Alex.

"_Thieves usually don't want to kill anyone, they are often only after your possessions." _The operator said, trying to reassure her.

"But what if it's not just a robbery?" Jack moaned in despair. Though she didn't know it, by now her voice was raised just loud enough for Daniel to hear it from the stairs.

"_A police car will be arriving soon, just stay on the phone and try to remain calm. Chances are, if the thief heard you arrive, he or she has probably run away so they don't get caught. Have you seen any sign of…" _There was a pause. _"…of Alex since you got home?"_

"No! Last I saw, he was asleep in his bedroom!"

"_Just stay calm, deep breaths."_

"Wait, do you need our address to find us?"

"_No, don't worry. A police car is being sent to your location. Are you in the house itself?"_

"Yes, I'm downstairs and Alex is upstairs. I think there's someone upstairs with him."

There was a pause and then Jack swore. "Oh God, oh no!" She whispered in shock.

"_What? What is it?"_

"I just heard lots of noise. Sounds like fighting. Alex might be good at martial arts but he's only fifteen! I have to help him!"

"_Wait…"_

But it was too late; Jack was gone, leaving the handset dangling from its knotted cord, a female voice echoing out of it but with no one near enough to hear.

Living was so much effort. Why bother? Alex felt so battered and bruised. And this sort of thing had happened so often… he just wanted to surrender to the pain. It would be so much easier to just give up. Sure, he would still feel pain if he did; there was no doubt at all that if he stayed here, he would be killed. But if he survived this, then there was next time, wasn't there? No matter what he did, something would happen to draw him back in into the world of espionage and danger again. He would get hurt, again, both physically and emotionally. And of course, there was never any guarantee that he would even survive.

He had been through so much…

Random memories, none good, flickered through his mind. Being chased by quad bikes. Finding out that Ash had killed his parents. Sabina, captive. Trapped underwater, drowning. Tricked by Scorpia into believing their lies. Shot in the chest. Blood, everywhere. A large snake incased in metal spikes…

He had been lied to, deceived, black mailed, used, attacked, tricked, abused, and betrayed… again and again. With a life like that, what was worth living for?

No! Never think like that!

Alex was a born survivor. And a Rider. It might seem so easy to just lay there, and so hard to get up, but since when had Alex ever taken the easy way out of anything?

No matter how much he wanted to just give up, the part of him that was born for the life of a spy (and so a part of him he would never admit to), would never allow that.

He was a fighter, and if he was going to go down, then he was as sure as hell going to go down fighting!

Pain pulsed to the beat of a drum in his head, every breath rasping and painful, his whole body feeling pummelled and bruised. But he pushed it all away to the back of his mind as best he could.

Time to show that idiot what a mistake he had made trying to burgle Alex's house.

And time to find out what on Earth had happened to Jack…

Slowly, with the care of a frail old man, Alex pulled himself up into a sitting position using the cold tap and the side of the bath. For a few seconds everything seemed to spin around him and he felt thorns of pain pierce his head savagely, making him want to throw up or faint. Or both.

Alex took deep, slow breaths, ignoring the discomfort in his throat and slowly drawing up his right leg, then his left. After being crushed under a fully grown man's weight for so long, moving them felt weird. But if he could cope with agony, he could deal with weird no problem at all!

And so, ever so slowly, Alex eased himself to his feet and stepped out of the bath. With every movement he felt new twinges in all sorts of tender muscles. But as he carefully stretched them, the stiffness worked its way out, taking away the pain with it. Sure, he would be sore in the morning (if he survived that long), and his head, arms and chest all throbbed at the moment, but with each passing second he was getting closer to being back to his old self.

Back to being alive.

He glanced at the first stranger as he crept over to the bathroom door. He was still out cold, his greasy hair stained with sticky blood. Alex leant down slightly, gritting his teeth in pain as he did, and warily pushed the man's shoulder. All that happened was that he slumped sideways a little.

Praying he wouldn't wake up anytime soon, Alex crept out of the door in time to see a foot disappear around the corner into the sitting room downstairs.

Whereas Daniel had taken a long time to walk down the stairs as subtly as possible, Alex new exactly which stair creaked and were to put his weight on each step to stop any other sounds giving him away. This meant he managed to make it down in less then half the time. Keeping such control of his muscles, as bruised as they were, wasn't very fun though.

Alex could hear Jacks voice drifting in from the kitchen. He wondered briefly who she was talking to, hoping it was the police, before he edged around the corner that the thief had disappeared behind just a short while ago.

From there Alex, could plainly see the criminal stoop down and pick up a little metal model of a hare that Jacks parents had sent her for her birthday a couple of years ago.

It immediately occurred to him what was about to happen. The statue was heavy and if swung with enough force, could easily be used to kill someone. And the way the man was grinning darkly to himself and swinging the hare from side to side left Alex in no doubt at all that he was going to use it on Jack.

Alex felt anger flare up inside him. There was no way he could allow this bastard to kill the one person that mattered most in the world to him. Jack knew everything about him, had always been there for him as a kid, had stuck by him throughout all that MI6 had thrown at him. She was his best friend, his guardian and the nearest thing to a relative that he had left.

So, despite the pain that he was already in, and the danger he was about to face, he threw himself across the room and at the older man.

**EriKaBalDeL****, here are my answers- On one side of their house lives a young married couple. To afford the rent on the house both must work, they are out at work and so not home to hear the fighting. The other house has just been put up for sale and is currently empty. In a couple of days it will be bought by MI6 and one of their agents will move in. They may or may not bother mentioning this to Alex. They might as well just wait until he finds out because his anger could make for some interesting drama XD **

**And as you can see, the Police have now been contacted.**

**My thanks, a million times over to With the What Now for checking this chapter over to me. (And man did it need it!)**

**If it wasn't for her, among many other mistakes, it would have read: the model of a hair that Jacks parents had sent her for her birthday a couple of ears ago.**

**(Model of a hair! Haha, what a rubbish present to get!**

**Please review nicely :3**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Yes, I am Mr. Horowitz, just like I'm the King of the Bumblebee horde of Tachtitakita, three times winner of the Nobel Peace prize for carrots, daughter of an inversed rainbow, God of all Shortbread, Jester for the Pink cats of the Moon and a compulsive liar.**

_Crash_.

Two bodies collided.

Alex might have been smaller then the thief, but the other man hadn't been expecting an attack and so fell heavily under Alex's momentum.

It didn't take long for the advantage of surprise to cease to exist though, seconds after toppling over onto the floor (and whacking his shoulder painfully on the corner of the doorframe); Daniel whipped his head around and lashed out at Alex with the metal hare clamped in his large fist.

Alex barely had time to launch himself wildly backwards before the lump of metal whistled past his face. For a split second that left itself oddly imprinted on his memory, Alex saw the hare's front paws fill his vision completely before both he and the hare went hurtling off in different directions.

Alex thumped down onto the carpet, his head barely missing a cabinet but one of his flailing arms catching painfully on a chair leg, which then followed Alex down, landing on him with a dull thump.

Such was the aggression behind Daniels' wild swing that the hare kept on flying right past Alex until it met the cream painted wall to the thief's left. With a loud crash, bits of cream wall flew like shrapnel across the room.

Dust motes swirled madly in the pale light of a dull London day, that filtered through the glass.

No one noticed.

No one cared.

There was no time for anything, no time even for thoughts, only instincts in this desperate battle for survival.

Daniel was now back on his feet, the metal hare statue (whose front legs where decidedly bent from their contact with the wall, as well as being covered in an uneven dusting of cream powder), still in his hand.

Alex threw the chair off of him and scrambled back up to his own feet.

Chests heaving the two males glared daggers of pure, primeval hate at each other.

Then suddenly there came a ragged yell from behind Daniel.

His face still screwed up in a snarl, Daniel started to turn round, but before he managed it there was a flash of red, then silver, then red again as blood, just seconds ago pounding round the criminals body, made a bid for freedom in a wide arc of scarlet liquid.

The thief cried out and swore viciously, instincts throwing him forward, away from what ever danger was lurking behind him.

He stumbled, bent over slightly with blood poring down from a wound on his shoulder. Within moments though he had straitened up, far enough away from Alex to react to any attack he might suddenly launch at him.

Still swearing, pain written all across his face as well as murderous anger, Daniel looked at the face of his new attacker.

Instead of seeing a male youth as he had expected (or at least, would have expected if he had had the time, inclination and imagination to think about such things), his flint-grey eyes met those of the red haired young women that he recognized as being the occupant of this house.

She was staring at him, wide eyed and wild haired. In her hand was a knife covered in blood, Daniel's blood.

She had meant to stab Daniel in the back but as he had turned, the blade had ended up connecting with his shoulder. And for some reason she just hadn't been able to full on stab someone, meaning that instead she had just slashed him. Even that had been enough to make her feel sick to her core. One thing was for sure, she was no killer. She hated seeing others hurt (especially Alex), and actually attacking someone with a knife was way outside her comfort zone. She wouldn't have been able to do it if Alex hadn't been in trouble. She would do what ever she had to, to help him.

It was as though someone had frozen the three of them in time. There was barely any movement, just the rise and fall of chests and the flickering of eyes taking in the scene.

No one seemed to want to be the first to move.

Daniel could see that the tables had turned; they were no longer in his favour in the sense that he was now both out numbered and the worst injured due to a knife wound to his shoulder.

He was still much stronger then either of them though.

And then the tables turned once more to the tune of swearing from upstairs.

Mike was awake, disorientated and in pain, meaning that the three of them downstairs could hear every cry of "Shit!" and every crashing noise as Mike made his way down the stairs, bouncing repeatedly off the banister and wall by the sound of things.

Then there was a pause in which no sound could be heard from the small man, followed shortly later by an angry and confused call of: "Daniel? Daniel! Where you gone? Daniel?!"

A smile played across Daniel's tanned face.

"I'm in here, you bastard! And I've got company!"

Mike was feeling awful. Really, really, really bad. He had the worst headache he'd had since the morning after the time someone had dared him to see how much vodka he could drink before he passed out.

The last thing he remembered before he got knocked out was robbing a house and trying to punch some random kid.

When he had finally awoke he had felt really confused. For a few seconds he couldn't even remember were he was. Then it all came back to him. He might have been a drug user since he was about 11, give or take a few months, but he still had his wits about him enough to work out what had happened. He had been knocked out. The throbbing pain and blood on the back of his head confirmed that.

He felt kind of sick looking at the blood. His own blood.

He didn't have much time to bother thinking about that though as the sound of fighting filtered up to him.

Shit!

It sounded as though Daniel must have bumped into that kid as well. Mike was pretty amazed that the kid was still standing (if that was in fact who Daniel was fighting down there)

Oh well.

He better go help. Weird though, it was usually Daniel who had to go and save his sorry arse from being beaten up by some drug dealer or other he hadn't paid or a stranger he had upset.

And here was Mike coming to the rescue, to help him beat up a kid! Though of course, he could be fighting someone else…

Mike had just woken up from being knocked unconscious. He was slightly confused, disorientated and unsteady on his feet.

If he had been thinking clearly (something he usually avoided doing as much as possible through the use of various illegal substances), he would have probably stayed up there hiding until it seemed safe to venture down, as, he was of cause, a yellow-bellied coward.

However, in his befuddled state of mind, his only thought was that he better go down there and help, or else Daniel would have a right go at him later. And man did that guy have a temper!

Getting down the stairs was absurdly hard though, the whole world kept tipping to one side or the other like he'd drank too much out to sea in a storm.

He kept bouncing off things painfully, making him swear.

He half fell down the last few steps and allowed himself to crumple to the floor with a quite groan. Mike shut his eyes, trying to block out the world as it spun round him dizzily. After a couple of minutes, (Or was it more? Or less? He couldn't tell.) the threat of being sick at any second receded, as did most of the dizziness.

He realised then that he couldn't hear anything else now, apart from his own purposefully deep breaths.

_Had the fighting stopped? Why? __Had someone won? Had Daniel lost? Nah, not possible, that…right?_ Confused thoughts swirled round his head, refusing to stand to attention to be counted.

Well there was one easy way of finding out what was going on…he called out to Daniel and was flooded with relief as he got a typically gruff, insulting reply from his partner.

'_Got Company, aye?' _Mike knew what that meant. It meant trouble. He would have been able to guess that without him saying anything though, sounds of fighting usually equalled trouble, or, a particularly violent film on TV.

Right then, if there was trouble he better get in there and cause more. As he dragged himself back onto his feet (which made him feel a little ill, but not nearly as bad as earlier. His head still bloody hurt though), he reached one hand inside of his jacket as though subconsciously seeking reassurance that something or other was still there

That done, and with a grim, thin-lipped smile on a face that could really do with a quick shave, (And/or wash), he carefully made him way over to were the noise had come from.

It was just through the door closest to him on the left, and peering round the corner he was perfectly able to see the scene set out before him.

There was Daniel, blood stained on his left side, holding a metal model of a rabbit or something. There was also a very nasty look on his face, smears of blood and clear-ish gunk staining his hair.

There was also the boy from before, bruises already showing up on the skin visible on his face and hands, and dried blood covering the bottom half of his face. There was some blood on his clothes as well, and a wary look in his brown eyes.

And then there was that women they had been watching, the one who they knew lived here. She stared at him wildly, a bloody knife clutched in her outstretched hands, a weapon, a barrier, a vivid threat, a dare to come any closer, directed at the two criminals.

Mike stepped into the room, bringing with him hope for Daniel and despair for the other two.

They were evenly matched number wise, but things were still far from even.

Though not quite in the way that the two men saw it. They knew they were both bleeding, but so was the boy, and after all, he was _just_ a boy. And their other enemy might be holding a knife, but she was just a women.

Two fully grown, seasoned criminals against a half dead kid and a crazy looking lady who had probably never used a knife in her life for anything but cutting up vegetables, it was obvious to see who was going to win, right?

As back-up arrived for the thief, Alex dropped into a fighting stance, ready to take on what ever they threw at him.

Without thinking about it, Jack also adopted the pose Ian had taught her, so, so long ago. She held the knife in her right hand, out in front of her, at an angle that would allow her to lash out with it fast, and with maximum strength.

For a second, she thought of handing it over to Alex; surely a trained spy would be more used to handling knives then her? But that small action of passing the weapon over might leave them vulnerable to attack. It wasn't worth the risk.

But then, the tables didn't so much as turn once again, more as were sent crashing to the ground by Fate in an angry mood.

For as rock beats scissors, gun beats knife.

Mike's gun.

The one he was slowly, ever so slowly pulling out of his jacket pocket, savouring the power and the effect it had on the room.

Daniel swore in an oddly delighted sort of fashion.

Alex cursed as well, angrily and in despair, muttering to himself a string of offensive words. It was always him, wasn't it? He never got a break. Never got a damn break.

To him surprise, Jack also swore. She hadn't seen a gun in real life since she had left America; her father had owned an old rifle that he kept under his bed, and really wished she wasn't seeing one right now

Jack was swamped with wave after wave of toxic fear. It froze her to the spot, still clutching the now seriously out-trumped knife as though it was her only chance of survival.

But what good could it do? She doubted even Alex could stop a bullet with a knife.

Her only hope was the police. Surely they must be near now?

"Drop the knife." Mike commanded steadily.

Jack didn't move.

"I said drop the gun!" he snarled. "Drop it or I'll shoot the kid!"

Mike pointed the guns' small black muzzle towards Alex. It wasn't the first time he had found himself staring down the barrel of the gun, so he reverted to his usual angle on such a situation.

In acknowledgment of the danger he raised his arms up slightly, to about even with his head to show his surrender (though he kept his legs in the position of a fighting stance).

But, cheeky as ever he couldn't help saying, "Careful where you point that thing, you could poke someone's eye out with that!"

His only reply was a sneer and the click of a safety lock being removed. Oh hell…

Then there was another sound that was a mixture of a thud and a light 'clang' as Jack finally released the knife to fall harmlessly to the floor.

"That's it, that's it." Daniel grinned, before quickly snatching the weapon up, abandoning the hare statue as he did so.

The enemy now had a gun and the knife, all they had was a teenage-spy. Things really weren't looking very good from were Alex and Jack were standing.

But were to go from here? What was the next move to make?

Jack glanced at Alex and saw his brown eyes flicker towards the metal model laying on the ground, then back up to hers.

She glanced down at the hare, careful not to move her head as she did so.

She knew what Alex was implying but Jack wasn't sure if she could do it.

Her eyes returned to his, one last time for confirmation on the move she was about to make.

Then, she lunged. Jack grabbed for the hare but just as her fingers brushed it, a hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her viciously to the side, away from the statue.

Next second she was looking up into the blood shot eyes of Daniel, the knife still covered in his own blood, pinned against her throat.

He had dropped the hare there on purpose, knowing that Jack would not be able to resist trying to grab it.

Where was Alex in all this? Her body was twisted awkwardly to one side and she didn't dare move her head for fear that she would get cut, but out of the corner of her eye she could see him.

As Jack had dived for the hare, he had tried to grab one of the chairs, hoping he would be able to throw it at Mike, which should of at least have distracted him long enough for Alex to try and get the gun off him.

But now Alex was frozen with the chair raised but the gun trained steadily on him.

A look of pain crossed his bloody face as Alex saw Jacks predicament.

Both thieves were grinning darkly at him now. "Put the chair down kid and the women don't get hurt."

Put the chair down? Of course, what use was a chair against a gun anyway? You would have to be crazy to try your luck in that sort of situation.

Because of that, throwing the chair at Mike would have been a very unexpected thing to do. That's why he did it.

A chair flew through the air.

Two shots rang out.

Two men collapsed.

A woman screamed.

A distant siren drew closer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Maybe…just maybe, if I wish hard enough I will be able to own the rights to the Alex Rider series…wait for it…wait for it………….. Nope, that didn't work DX So I still don't own them…**

PC. Harpur glanced at her partner as he collapsed next to her in the passenger seat of the police car, closing the car door behind him with a sigh as he did so. PC. Tryner was breathing hard, his head back and eyes closed.

"I take it you didn't catch him then?" She asked. Without opening his eyes PC. Tryner shook his head. "Another unit got him first. If they hadn't arrived just then I would have had him though."

PC. Harpur smiled as she put the car in gear and pulled out onto the road. "That's what you always say."

Opening one eye to peer at the road, her partner asked. "Where we going?"

"Just got a report of a possible burglary in progress. We were the nearest unit when the call came in, but you took so long to get back here, I wouldn't be surprised if someone was already there."

He muttered something grumpy sounding before suddenly realising he hadn't put his seatbelt on. A Policeman could get in a lot of trouble for things like that. He tried to stealthily put it on without PC. Harpur noticing, but of course she did. She always noticed little details like that; it was what made her so good at her job.

She didn't say anything about it, though the raised eyebrows were enough.

Wanting to change the subject before she gave him a lecture along the lines of being 'hypocritical', PC. Tryner asked. "How far away is it?"

"Not far, but you know the traffic round here. Even with lights flashing and the siren going you don't get anywhere nearly as fast as you should do."

He nodded and made a vague noise to signal agreement, his eyes on the streets they passed , instinctively looking out for wrong doers after so long in the force.

It all happened so quickly, one second it looked as though Alex was going to just put the chair down, next second he had thrown it.

Jack heard the two shots, painfully loud in the almost silent room, followed seconds later by an almighty crash as furniture met man in mid-air.

There was screaming as well. Coming from her. She was the one making the long, drawn out cry of pure terror

Later, she wouldn't be able to recall what made her scream, hearing the gun go off or seeing Alex slump backwards, blood cascading away from him as he did.

All she knew was that she was suddenly screaming, her mind in shock at the sight in front of her. She struggled, the knife biting into her neck and drawing blood, causing a small scar that would stay with her for the rest of her life as a momentum of this day from hell.

After a few seconds, she was surprised to feel herself suddenly being released. Jack's screaming stopped as Daniel shoved her viciously away from him.

He rushed over to Mike who was scrambling out from under the heavy, and now slightly broken chair. He was swearing profusely, one hand on his head where the chair had connected painfully with it, the other still clutching the gun.

Daniel could hear sirens nearby and drawing ever closer. With a growl of "Fuck!" followed by a string of muttered curses, he grabbed Mike by the arm and pulled him to his feet.

"The cops are coming!"

"Oh hell!"

Daniel dragged his partner along as quickly as he could, desperate to leave the property by the back door that they had broken into before the Police arrived at the front one. He knew the cops; it would only take them a few seconds to get round the back as well to try and block them off.

They were almost out of the door before he remembered that he had left the red haired women alive. Daniel stopped abruptly, letting go of Mike.

Snatching the gun roughly off him, Daniel started to head back in the direction they had just come from. He needed to get rid of her and finish the kid off if Mike's shots hadn't, even though he was pretty sure the boy must be dead, he had seen at least one shot hit him in the chest.

Then he stopped. There was no time. Oh shit, just how wrong did this whole thing have to go?

As much as he hated to, he would have to leave them and just try to get out of there while he still could. So, giving up on that plan he pushed Mike out of the door and ran over to the gate that they had entered by.

Pulling it open, he stepped out onto the small path made of gravel and weeds beyond.

Just then he heard the approach of rapid footsteps, their sounds increasing dramatically on the crunch and spray of gravel underfoot.

Daniel raised the gun, and as PC. Tryner sprinted around the corner of the fencing, he shot him. The Policeman fell to the ground with a cry.

Without pausing for a second, Daniel started to run in the opposite direction to where the man lay dying, Mike a few steps behind him. They burst out through a hedge and onto the road beyond.

To their surprise, they saw a white van idling on the kerb. Inside, a man they both vaguely recognised waved desperately at them, indicating for them to hop into the back.. They did so as quickly as possible, their hearts pounding, their wounds aching and adrenalin pulsing through their bodies.

Man was that close!

As Daniel had pushed Jack away, she had landed awkwardly, spraining her ankle as she fell.

She had bigger things to worry about though' besides a little bit of pain.

Alex was still laying crumpled on the floor, blood all over him. So much blood…

Rolling over painfully to look at him, Jack let out an involuntary chocking gasp. Suddenly, her eyes were stinging and within the next second, tears were coursing down her cheeks.

Jack hated crying and hardly ever did it. Even when Ian had died she had tried her best not to cry in front of Alex, though she hadn't always succeeded. She had tried to stay strong for him, even when she saw him preparing to go off on another mission, knowing that he could so easily be killed, and that even if he didn't, he would still return to her a just that little bit deader then before. She sometimes cried when he was away, though, as her imagination ran riot with the little bits of information she had gleaned from his past missions, imagining all those things, and worse, happening to him.

And now…How could this have happened? Her one chance to actually protect him from harm and he was laying on the floor, unmoving and bloody.

Jack scrambled to his side, tears clouding her vision as she placed one hand on his chest.

"Alex? Alex?" She sobbed. "Alex?"

Just then there was a shout and a crashing sound. Jack had no idea what was called out though; the boy on the floor was her whole world just then, (as he had been since Ian had first decided to employ her) she didn't seem to be able to hear anything but her own ragged breathing and sobbing.

Until a figure hurriedly fell to its knees next to her.

"What happened?" A worried female voice asked Jack.

She looked up, blinking tears away. "He, he got shot. They shot Alex. Twice." She was barely audible over her near hysterical crying. Saying it made it so much worse-it somehow confirmed for her that this was really happening. Alex had been shot. Again. And she hadn't been able to stop it happening. Again.

PC. Harpur leaned past her and gently lifted up one of Alex's pale and bruised arms. She pressed two fingers to his wrist. "There's a pulse."

A sudden rush of relief shot through Jack's body, but she knew that they weren't out of the woods yet. Just because Alex was alive, didn't mean he would be in five minutes.

The policewoman passed her mobile phone over to Jack. "Call for an ambulance. I'm going to put pressure on the worst wound.

Jack hadn't even been able to tell where exactly the gun shot wounds were through all the tears and blood, but PC. Harpur immediately grabbed a small table cloth laying crumpled on the floor next to her and started to put pressure on the worst wound.

It was in Alex's chest, on the far right, just below his collar bone. The other was on his right as well, but in his arm.

As the policewoman tried to stop the bleeding, she prayed to what ever God was up there that no main organs of arteries had been severed. The boy had a very slim chance of survival if they had been. Especially if the Ambulance didn't get there soon. She glanced up to see the red-haired woman women speaking into her mobile phone. She was still crying and clearly in shock, a terrified look on her face.

PC. Harpur was worried as well, not only for the boy but for her partner. He had gone around the back to try and head off the robbers if they went that way and he had never reappeared. She was sure she had heard a shot, and she knew from the teenager's wounds that the criminals had a gun. She feared the worst but couldn't go investigating yet, not before the Ambulance or a backup squad arrived.

A couple of minutes later another Police car arrived. PC. Harpur hastily told them what she knew and they quickly went off in search of her partner and the thieves.

Seconds after they ran off, the medical help arrived as well and swept the lady and boy away, sirens blaring.

It wasn't long before it was discovered that another Ambulance was needed. It was already too late by then though.

PC. Harpur would cry herself to sleep that night.

Epilogue one:

Mike leaned back against the van wall and let out a sigh of relief.

Daniel wasn't so relaxed though, he was leaning forward, his fists clenched and anger smouldering away in his blood-shot eyes.

"You never told me you 'ad a gun." He growled in a voice that suggested he was doing his best to surpass his rage, and only just succeeding.

Mike shrugged. "The Boss gave it t' me. Said I might need it. How come you never told me ya had an escape vehicle waiting' for us?"

Then Daniels voice changed from angry to angry _and _confused. "What? I thought you musta. Weren't me."

The man in the front leaned back and glanced up from them to the road for a second. "The Boss arranged it. Two vans, me in this one on that road, Josh in another van on the top road. We were told to wait for you."

The two criminals looked at each other quizzically. The Boss had never provided an escape route or weapons before. This was weird.

"Oh, and I forgot to say, the Boss wanted to see you straight after, so that's where we're going now." The man in the front continued.

Man this was getting a bit odd…What exactly as going on here? Daniel decided to ask when they saw the Boss. He would never get all the answers he wanted though.

It took another five minutes to reach the seedy bar that was the front to the Boss's HQ.

Once inside they were led to the back room in which the Boss had all his meetings.

He was an unassuming man, the Boss. He had a receding salt-and-pepper hairline, a rather normal looking face, a weak chin and nearly always wore a boring old black suite.

His eyes, stuck somewhere between blue and green and grey, regarded the petty thieves, just two of the low level criminals who worked for him.

"Sooo…?" It was the start of a question, one to which the two men in front of him knew the answer to. And so did he, but he asked all the same in order to see them squirm.

Mike in particular was very good at squirming, where as Daniel just hunched his large shoulders like a vulture and glared at the floor.

"…how did it go, Mr. Fletcher? Mr. Stanley?" He finished, nodding to both of them in turn.

There was no answer, so instead the Boss asked a different question in the same cool clam tone as he had asked the last. "Did you use my gun, Fletcher?"

This got a small nod from Mike as he hastily reached into his pocket and handed the gun in question back to the Boss.

"Kill anyone?" Mike fidgeted slightly before mumbling, "Think so..."

Eyebrows slightly raised, their Boss replied, "Think so…? What do you mean?"

Mike shuffled from foot to foot, unsure of whether the boss would approve or not.

"There was a boy there. An' a lady. An' there was a fight. I shot the kid a couple o' times. I think I killed him." He was not proud of this fact.

"There was a fight, was there? Dear me, how did that happen? I thought you two were supposed to watch the property before attempting a robbery."

"We did!" This time the reply came from Daniel, his eyes still fixed on the patch of carpet in front of him.

"But we never saw no kid there. He surprised us, knocked Mike here out. I ended up fighting with him but he got away. And the lady got back. She had a knife but then Mike came down with that gun, see? And then the bloody kid threw a chair at Mike and he shot him. I was gonna finish the lady off two with her own knife so there were no witnesses. But then the filth arrived so we' ad to go. I shot a Policeman on the way out though."

Unlike Mike, Daniel showed no remorse at all for his actions.

The Boss seemed to think carefully about the thieves' words before asking, "Was this 'boy' a teenager with blond hair?" The question was asked as though it was a matter of little importance to the Boss, but he waited anxiously for the answer.

"Yeah, he was." Mike mumbled.

It was never a good idea to ask the Boss too many questions, but Daniel was curios, "Why do ya ask?"

The boss seemed very blasé and casual with his answer though, "Oh, no reason…" The rest of the answer he said in his mind but not out loud …_Or, at least, no reason you need to know. You know far too much already. Fools._

He could see that Daniel was about to enquire something more and decided that he was bored of all this.

"Mr. Stanley. Mr. Fletcher." He said in a heavy and final voice.

"Yes?..." came the uncertain reply.

"Goodbye."

Before either of them had a chance to even say, "Huh?", The fourth and fifth shots were fired from the same gun in one day.

The two petty criminals slumped to the ground, dead. Just as it had been planned, all along.

As the Boss put down the gun that Mike had borrowed off him, he put in a call to his sectary, asking for the cleaner to come to his office at once to dispose of some rubbish on the floor.

That done, he turned to his laptop and started to compose an e-mail to _his _boss.

Epilogue Two

"There has been a violent break in at Alex Rider's house. He has been shot. His condition is serious but stable." Mrs. Jones rattled off the information to her boss, putting the file containing the corresponding report on Mr. Blunt's desk.

"Oh dear." Mr. Blunt replied. He didn't sound upset, but nor did he sound sarcastic. He was simply giving the minimum reply that society would expect him, without any kind of emotion behind it. Like a robot.

Mrs. Jones was used to this sort of reply, but still it infuriated her. She wasn't one to let it show though. The only one she was ever able to rant to about him was her poor cat. It got a lot of rants for a creature with a brain small enough to fit into a tea-cup.

Smithers also seemed to know how she felt, though she had never actually talked to him about it. Then again, this was _Smithers_; for all she knew; he could have turned her cat into some sort of cyborg with inbuilt listening devices. She wouldn't put it past him…

But now she had other things to think about, like the safety of Alex Rider.

"What are we going to do?" She asked. She knew what ever answer she got would not be satisfactory.

"Do? Well, we could always send him a nice bunch of flowers. Or maybe grapes? Don't people in hospital usually get grapes?"

Mrs. Jones interrupted his musings and replied in clipped tones, "I meant about the boys safety."

"Hmm… I somehow predict he won't take too kindly to body guards, no matter how subtle. He'd probably say they ruined his 'street cred', or what ever it is teenagers talk about these days…"

One look at Tulip Jones was enough to make him change tack.

"I've received notice that the house next door to him has recently come up for sale. MI6 will buy it and we will put one of our best agents in it to watch over him."

"He will notice."

"Of course he will, he wouldn't be worth employing if he didn't notice."

"He won't like it."

"No, I don't suppose he will."

"He'll come here to try and make us get rid of the agent."

"Perfect."

"He's in hospital because of two gunshot wounds! Surely you're not considering sending him on another mission already?"

"Of course not." It was a lie. Mrs. Jones left in disgust.

Humming, 'Rule Britannia' to himself, Alan turned the brown file around so he could read it.

Epilogue three.

It was two weeks later and Alex was sitting up in a hospital bed with a small array of cards and flowers surrounding his bed.

There was one from Jack, Tom, the school (Alex though they must be really fed-up of sending him all these get well cards), and one from Smithers, which amazingly, hadn't blown up or done anything odd this time. Alex was still suspicious of it, though.

Despite the medication, he was still in a lot of pain. He was going to recover fine though, the doctors had said. He had been lucky and nothing major had been hit. It was true that Alex felt lucky to be alive, but it seemed more like some strange and twisted God was keeping him alive for their own amusement* rather than the luck of the Devil.

Jack bustled in a few minutes later, beaming at him. Alex was glad she was starting to remember how to smile again; he had hated seeing her looking so worried ever since the 'incident.'

"Guess what, Alex?"

"You won the lottery? You're becoming Prime Minister? You've found the key to world peace? The penguins are invading?"

Jack laughed for the first time in what seemed forever.

"Not quite. But a cute guy has moved in next door. I'm going to go round later and give him some homemade chocolate chip cookies, straight out of the mixing packet!"

Alex sighed and shook his head in mock exasperation. "God, Jack!"

"What?" She asked innocently.

"You're so American!"

***I Think he's on to something there, don't you?**

**And there you have it, the end of my first serious fanfiction. **

**I thought this chapter would end up really short but it was in fact the longest one of all!**

**Thank you to all the people who have made it this far, put this story on alert or favourite, and all those who have reviewed.**

**And special thanks goes of course to With The What Now for putting up with my incessant chattering and for looking through all my more resent chapters for mistakes. Without her this story would probably make even less sense!**

**Please review this last chapter nicely, and remember, this spoon is deadly!**


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